


You Can Be Good For Each Other

by Visnovely



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bernie is canonically more observant than she lets on, Character Study, F/M, Fluff, Hubert is canonically insecure and bad with feelings, Past Child Abuse, Post-Canon, Romance, awkward dorks, so what do you get
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:36:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25888216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Visnovely/pseuds/Visnovely
Summary: Sometimes, that's all that matters.OR, Hubert von Vestra struggles with being selfish.
Relationships: Bernadetta von Varley/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 10
Kudos: 69





	1. Choosing

His life started to fall apart with a simple, innocuous comment during afternoon tea.

Lady Edelgard had been complaining about the recent “suggestions” from some Imperial officials that it was already well past time for her to marry (with the more daring ones not-so-subtly offering themselves for the position). For the good of Fódlan, they said; even with the war a year over with, there were still matters of alliance and diplomacy to settle, and surely Her Majesty would reconsider her previous statement about choosing her successor instead of continuing the Hresvelg bloodline? All for the sake of the Empire, of course.

Hubert had told her not to mind. The rest of the populace was unaware of their struggle against the enemies in the shadows, and the affairs of a young and unmarried Emperor would always be a popular subject for idle gossip. Soon enough another rumor would catch the court’s attention, and Her Majesty would be free to return to her duties in peace. Or they could wake up with dead serpents by their bedsides; that particular tactic never failed to scare overly persistent suitors, thought Hubert made sure to not mention it in polite company.

“It’s all just so _frivolous!_ As if they completely ignored everything I said!”

“They simply desire something to look forward to.”

“I know that, and if the day ever comes when I must marry for the good of the Empire, I’ll gladly do it, but for now, there are more important things to be done.” Pouting slightly, she took a sip of her tea, murmuring so quietly as to be almost imperceptible. “And with the amount of senseless gossip they think I cannot hear, one would think I was engaged to half of Fódlan already.”

As to the nature of such gossip, Hubert did not dare comment on. General Eisner (though his former students still insisted on calling him Professor) was currently away on a covert mission deep in Goneril territory, and news of his situation were scarce, though such things were not uncommon. It was a highly secretive assignment, after all, and getting the reports through the proper security measures always took time. Hubert still had to decode the cipher for the last letter, not to mention all the other reports that still had to be reviewed and delivered – 

“What about you?”

Snapping out of his thoughts, Hubert lifted his eyes from the pile of documents he’d been gazing at. It was a bad habit of his, to get too caught up in his work even during break times, one he had been called to correct more than once. “What about me, Your Majesty?”

Speaking of bad habits, there was one. Perhaps it was unfair of Hubert to criticize a distinct lack of subtlety in others, but at least he did it on purpose, most of the time. Lady Edelgard, not so much; she fiddled with her teaspoon, slightly tapping her feet, glancing at him from time to time before briskly turning away. You could practically see the gears spinning around in her mind. 

“Well, I simply wondered if, perhaps, you had any hopes like that for yourself. I know we have discussed this topic before, but it has been a long time, and, well, opinions change. So do people.”

The last time someone had brought up the subject had been to actually propose to him, and if Ferdinand hadn’t managed to do whatever it was that convinced Dorothea to pick him instead, Hubert was sure she might have even been half-serious. With such a topic, it was always better to play it safe, let nothing that could give a wrong impression slip by. “My answer remains the same as back then: should the need ever arise, and if Her Majesty’s commands it, then I shall do it without question.”

“Hubert, please. I would never force you to do something like that, and you shouldn’t imply it, either.” She sighed, putting a hand to her forehead. “All I meant to say was that you don’t always have to bind yourself to what I would want. You are also free to make your own choices. We _both_ are. Isn’t that what we fought for in the first place?”

There was a trap here, something he was failing to perceive. She expected something from him, and he had no idea what it could possibly be. The wise move would have been to simply thank her for her kindness and end the conversation as soon as possible, but Hubert knew himself well enough to know that that feeling of incompetence would hound him all day if he at least did not try to discover what this was about. Lady Edelgard certainly did not help matters; she kept doing the same motions over and over, the _tap tap_ of her feet on the marble ground, not even looking at his face, but at something near his chest.

Ah.

“I assure you, there is a perfectly reasonable explanation.”

She smiled. “So you’ve said before.”

“It is a force of habit, nothing more.”

“You’ve said that before, too.”

She kept smiling, clearly not the slightest bit convinced by his answer. This day had been bound to arrive eventually: What seemed like a lifetime ago, he had walked into a meeting, completely forgetting about the flower in his lapel. When the initial shock passed, Ferdinand and Dorothea had latched onto him like children, calling it a gift from an admirer. Once Hubert had properly explained the situation, the silence at the meeting table had been enough to hear a pin drop down on the ground. From that point forward there had been harmless, endless teasing and accusations of him turning into a “softie”, though the obvious – that the person Hubert was doing all of that for was currently living miles and miles away – had gone unmentioned until now.

“I know it’s silly, but I’m still a bit surprised at how well you and Bernadetta get along.”

“I simply try to make things easier for her, as you instructed me to all those years ago. Getting along is…too strong a term.”

“Is it?” The smile had turned into a full-blown smirk now, and Hubert felt the sudden urge to lecture her on why such an attitude was unbecoming of an Emperor. “Because I happen to know for a fact that she is quite fond of you. Is it safe to say the reverse is also true?”

_Was_ he fond of her?

They traded weekly letters (she was surprisingly more expressive when writing, and her penmanship was quite pleasant to read as well), talking about the state of Varley territory, book recommendations, or how _clearly_ carnivorous plants were superior to lilies. At Professor Byleth’s suggestion, they had helped each other with archery and magic training, which quickly led to Hubert developing a liking to the sweets that always seemed to mysteriously appear in his desk afterwards. The quiet tunes she would hum to herself when she thought no one was listening found themselves on the back of his mind constantly, driving Ferdinand crazy when Hubert unconsciously tapped them on his desk. 

“She can be…interesting to have around.”

“Interesting? Oh, Hubert, don’t be so cold.” A laughter. A pause. A sip of tea. _Tap, tap, tap_. This all seemed way too rehearsed, which meant there was more to come. Had she planned this from the beginning? “Well, whatever the case, I know _I_ miss her, and the good thing is I’ll have the chance to tell her soon, since she’ll be coming here to the capital.”

_That_ caught him by surprise. “I’m sorry?”

“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” Her tone was half-teasing, half-gentle. “Yesterday I received a letter – a _personal_ letter. Apparently, Bernadetta has some very urgent business to discuss with me, and it absolutely has to be done in person, and as quickly as possible. Only I and you are to hear it, that part was quite specific. _Super-secret_ , I believe the words were. You know how insistent she can get.”

Indeed, he knew it well. For a self-proclaimed coward, Bernadetta could be surprisingly stubborn whenever she set her mind to something. It was one of those things he could not help but find amusing about her. “I…was not made aware of this, no.”

“Really? I thought…well, never mind. If it was something serious, we would have surely heard about it, so at least there is no need to worry.” She rose from her seat, with Hubert quickly following suit. “The letter said she would be leaving Varley as soon as possible, so it would be best to start getting the arrangements ready now. Could you please take care of that?”

Hubert bowed, already working on the logistics in his head. There was a guest room on the far end of eastern wing that was just isolated enough from the usual bustle of the palace, which would probably suit her nicely. After taking care of accommodations, he would have to reschedule all of Her Majesty’s appointments as well as his own, and probably Caspar and Ferdinand’s as well. Assuming Bernadetta had already left Varley and was travelling without a full escort, it left little more than a week for the four of them to get together and settle everything, which was a whole other nightmare entirely. Not to mention if Dorothea decided to take one of her impromptu trips to the capital –

“Hubert.”

“Yes, you Majesty?”

Expectations again. What was the _point of this_ , besides making him feel miserable? Was there something she wanted him to say?

“I know you are quite busy, but when Bernadetta gets here, you should speak to her. This isn’t an order, just a suggestion. It’s a long journey, and I don’t know if I will have much time, and –” A pause for breath. This part, Lady Edelgard had not rehearsed. “Anyway, it should be you. You are always good to her.”

And then she turned around and left him, alone, to wonder just what the hell could that possibly mean.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night, Hubert dreamt, or thought he dreamt, since dreams were never that clear, about the first time they met.

He remembered how she had been: howling like a wounded animal, screaming about how she was going to die. An entire day of soothing from Dorothea and Petra finally convinced her to allow them in for food and a bath, but the problem was far from solved. She still refused to come out in any other situation, sneaking around the Monastery halls in the dead of night, or clinging to Ferdinand like a scared child during the rare times he could convince her to at least not starve herself to death inside her room.

Some of the students gossiped; they whispered about the crazy daughter of House Varley, that no wonder the Count had been so desperate to keep her hidden if the only heir and Crest-bearer of the family was something like _that_. After they were done pulling Caspar out of the fish pond, Hubert went hunting for gossip of his own. Count Varley’s reputation was well-known, but there was more to the man than just petty ambition and money-grubbing: stories of terrified servants being beaten or going missing, or the screams and sobs of a child being heard at the family estate abound, each more abominable than the last. If such rumors were true (and with Imperial nobility, they were usually either that or worse), it would mean a change in arrangements, perhaps drastically so, in a way Hubert could not predict.

Not that they already hadn’t been planning on throwing the man in a dark dungeon and tossing away the key since the beginning, but this still changed things. Lady Edelgard had been firmly against the killing of families of potential allies, stating that it was “not their place”; however, punishing those who had committed crimes against the Empire was a _very_ different matter, especially now that there was some personal satisfaction to be had for such punishment. It did not have to be killing. Hubert could find a way. He _always_ found a way.

As for the Count’s daughter, there was not much to be done. She seemed harmless enough, with no apparent reasons for betrayal once the time came. Hubert would watch her, yes, like all the others, but only from afar; the poor girl had already gone through enough without someone like him looming over her, which he understood perfectly well even without Lady Edelgard telling him (in the politest way she could phrase it) to “ _please_ be considerate”. As long as Bernadetta continued to show no suspicious behavior, then no measures would have to be taken, and Hubert would be free to maintain the distance she so seemed to desire.

Or, that was the way it was supposed to have been.

At first, their little silent arrangement worked well. They were both satisfied with living simply as two people who just happened to exist at the same time and place as each other. Trading only introductions and the occasional “good day” and “good night”, Hubert was left with enough time to do his job, and Bernadetta with enough time to do…whatever it was that she did insider her room all day. Evidently not sewing, according to the rumors of a giggling ghost wandering the gardens at night, looking to rip out careless student’s eyes with its needle. Foolishness like that was better left ignored, but if an incident were to happen, it would reflect badly on the Black Eagles, and since the Professor was, as always, too oblivious to rumors (or the world around him) to do anything, it fell to Hubert to take responsibility for the situation.

He waited for Bernadetta next to the benches, just after the twentieth-second bell. Ideally, it would be quick: just a short reprimand, a warning to be careful, nothing more. But, when Hubert saw her muttering skittishly to herself and smiling, actually smiling, at the embroidery in her hands, a strange impulse took over him. Next thing he knew, he was playing right along to her silly exaggerations, putting on his most frightening voice; then she was running, and Hubert was running after her, then she was reciting poetry, and Hubert was struggling to keep on a serious face and deliver his message, and only when Bernadetta had somehow managed to faint on her own two feet did he realize that maybe he had taken his little childish jest a bit too far. Thankfully, nobody had been around to see it, since there was honestly no reasonable explanation that could justify the whole mess, Hubert’s behavior included.

He remembered how she had been when he carried her back to her room: small, defenseless, sleeping peacefully there in his arms. The place itself did not have much to look at; it was like any other room in the Monastery, with books and rolls of fabric piled in the corner, and a stuffed toy sitting neatly in a small, wooden chair. He remembered the way her sleeves pulled back when he laid her down on the bed, revealing the white, faded rope-like scars beneath, and how he covered them back with a blanket. When his fingers brushed over her hair and Bernadetta began to mumble, Hubert ran out of the room as fast as possible, doing his best to ignore the words. _This is not your place_. He was an intruder there, barging into places that were not his own, digging up secrets that were not his own.

A mistake, that was all it had been. Just instincts taking over from all those times he had done the same for Lady Edelgard. _She is not yours to protect. There is nothing you can do for this girl. Her fate is in her own hands. Remember what you might have to do if she makes the wrong choice_. That’s right, she meant nothing to him, or he to her. Even that moment meant nothing. The next morning, she would find the letter he left at her bedside explaining everything, and they could go back to ignoring each other in peace. 

She found the letter, thanked him for helping, and ran away screaming from fright. All was well.

Hubert should have known better.

Most people did not like him, but that was all right. Most people were idiots anyway. Idiots, enemies, pawns, and maybe, just maybe, allies in potential; a lesson better learned early for anyone wishing to survive living at the center of the Imperial court, and it was no different at Garreg Mach. Keep people at arm’s length, evaluate them at every turn, test their skills, and only if and when they decided to stand at Lady Edelgard’s side would trust finally be afforded. If they ran away from his scowls and glares, so be it; it was a good test of character, and Hubert was used to it anyway. In some (most) cases, he had even done it on purpose. 

Was he was _not_ used to, however, was someone actually coming _back_.

There was a pattern to it: Bernadetta would approach him first, talking about a random subject. They would chat for a while, Hubert taking care to measure every word, and Bernadetta chastising him. “I need to master my own fear!” she would boast, visibly nervous, but still trying her best to appear confident, and the sheer unpredictability and gall of the girl standing in front of him would make Hubert lose all composure, causing him to laugh and teaser her as much as possible, scaring her away. After a few days of avoidance and awkward silences, the cycle started again. Over time, the time she would take to return diminished; first it was three days, then two, then one, until somehow five years had passed, they were having tea together at nearly once a week, she was mending his cloaks, and Hubert was lying on the grass at Tailtean, making sure to bleed to death on his back so as to not dirty her embroidered flower with mud. It was the courteous thing to do, after all.

He shouldn’t have been dallying on memories when there were more important matters on hand. In any other situation, the leader of a territory suddenly marching to the capital and demanding the Emperor’s time without stating their intentions would have meant insubordination or war, but since it was Bernadetta, it could actually be something _worse_ , simply because Hubert had no idea what her motives could be. It was not just about his pride as a spymaster, but also his pride as someone who though he had at least some idea about what went on in her head. The usual paranoia took root; Lady Edelgard had spoken like she knew something, or was planning something. She had done such things behind his back before, and, as much as Hubert hated to admit, there were times where he had never been able to fully grasp what went on in _her_ head, either.

_You are always good to her._

Yes, Hubert was fond of her. Admired her, even, despite her unpredictability, nonsensical behavior, and occasional childishness. Or maybe because of that. The old world had done its best to shatter her, as it had so many others, but she had still managed to piece herself back together, if a bit shakily. Not many people could stand up to him, or stand him at all, like Bernadetta did. Hubert had watched her grown into someone capable and kind, determined and stubborn. They had saved each other’s lives, _trusted_ each other with their lives, and gone to war against the world together.

None of that mattered. At least, not in the way the others gossiped about. When the truth about the war, the _real_ war, had come out, and the Black Eagle Strike Force swore to fight together again, they had thought it was only about that: fighting. Something that could be done with armies and swords, brute strength and invasions.

This was not that type of war. This was House Vestra’s war, and as much as Professor Byleth, or Petra, or Ferdinand, or even that damned Leclerc understood the full complexities of it, not all of their allies did. They would help, yes, in but in their own ways, and when the time called for it. They had their own lives and futures to worry about, while for Hubert, that was his life, and anyone getting caught so close would be in for as far as a normal life as possible.

He couldn’t do that to her. Not after everything that happened. 

Again, not that it mattered, because Bernadetta was not coming for that, and Hubert had never thought about it. And he wouldn’t.

Sweating, he opened his eyes, getting up from the bed and preparing his coffee kit. He had the feeling he was going to need a lot of it in the week to come.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  


When the day came, there were no rumors, no gossip whispered on the street, just the usual escort patrol for the city guard, plus one. Hubert had made sure of that. He had watched from the shadows as they entered the city gate, and later at the palace, when Lady Edelgard hugged her “esteemed guest”, and the two retired privately for some tea. Hubert did not mind; they would have plenty of time to talk later.

So, he waited. Waited and waited, for an entire day, until the request finally came. He had already prepared everything beforehand, despite the addition of the very specific request of absolutely _no sweets_ , since it would apparently be a “serious” conversation. The location, a small alcove in the corner of the gardens, had been specifically picked for its privacy and distance from any wagging tongues, and the view of Enbarr below it was pleasant enough for a meeting. Bernadetta was already waiting when he arrived; they had their usual greetings of hellos and I hope-you-are-wells as she fumbled with her words and gestures before finally settling on shaking his hand. 

“And, uh, how are…things? Here, and everywhere else. Edelgard said they were going fine, but you know. It’s better to hear from everyone.”

Hubert nodded, to show her he understood. Even in the palace, there were risks, ears on the walls. She had learned well. “Everything is quite fine. We have not had any troubles yet, and it seems it will continue that way for the time being.”

“Ah, good. That’s good. I was worried.” 

They sat at the stone benches, overlooking the city. The noise from below did not quite reach the gardens like it did the rest of the palace, making it unusually quiet. 

“Have you seen Caspar and Ferdinand yet? They were looking forward to seeing you.”

“I saw Ferdinand last night, but only for a bit. Me and Edelgard ended up talking for too long.”

It really had been quite late. Bernadetta had arrived at Enbarr just before sundown, and stayed with Lady Edelgard until nearly midnight, and the look on her face betrayed that it had something more than a simple chat between friends. Not that Hubert knew for sure. He hadn’t eavesdropped. That would have been beneath him.

“How is your room? Is there anything missing?”

“It’s fine. Thanks for asking.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” 

For several minutes, nothing happened. This was normal for them, quietly sitting side by side while the other worked; alone together, Bernadetta called it, which for some reason always made Hubert chuckle.

“You’re still wearing it. The flower. I’m glad.”

“Of course I am. I did promise, did I not? Or do you really think that lowly of me?”

Except this was not normal. He’d put on his best smirk, which would usually cause her to stumble, or deny it, or argue. The usual back-and-forth. This time, he had barely managed to get more than the faint ghost of a smile on her face. There was a wall between them, something Hubert wanted to ask and Bernadetta could not say. _Why are you here?_

“Have you –”

“Can I ask you a stupid question? And I know you’re busy and don’t have the _time_ to waste with stupid questions and you’ll have all the right to yell and be mad at me later, I promise. Just…let me finish, first.”

There it was. Those things she did. Was there a proper way? Something else he could have done beside stand there wide-eyed and nod at her to go on?

Bernadetta stood up, back turned to him. The evening sun shone bright, framing her face in shadow.

“If you and Edelgard didn’t like each other, would you still have wanted to help her?”

_The girl held a dagger to his throat. Her skin was scabbed and scarred beneath the silk dress, her face feral and terrified like an animal’s. Hubert could have easily shaken her off, but instead chose to lie there still on the ground, not moving a muscle. Slowly, her eyes softened, a flash of recognition; the dagger slipped, and she collapsed on his chest, sobbing and screaming. Hubert stayed there, caressing her white hair, until the monsters came and pulled them apart again._

“Yes.”

“Really? Even if you hated her?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” 

“Because what I feel does not matter.” If it were anyone else asking, one of the simpletons that gossiped and accused him of being nothing more than a love-struck fool desperate for any sort of attention from his mistress, Hubert wouldn’t have the patience to explain what they could not understand, but here? Here, he can be honest. “As long as Lady Edelgard’s goals and methods were the same, and she listened and respected my insights, regardless of mine or her own personal feelings, then yes, I would have chosen her. It is _why_ I chose her. That she and I happen to appreciate each other’s company is just…a happy coincidence.”

“So, you did it because it was the right thing to do?”

The right thing to do. Such a simple way to explain a feeling buried beneath so much anger and powerlessness. “I…suppose you could say that.”

Bernadetta crossed her arms, still not looking at him. They were getting close now, to the point of all this. 

Hubert stood, moving slight closer, making sure to let her know he would not intrude on her space. “Is that how you feel?”

“No! Of course not! I was just…thinking. About before, at the Monastery. Everyone was so eager to fight, and I was just scared. You were my friends; I wanted to stay with all of you.”

“Sounds like a reasonable motive to me.”

“No, it’s not. It’s selfish.”

“Even if it is, does it matter? People have fought for less, and your contributions have more than made up for anything.”

“Okay, but that was then! I’m talking about now! Everyone’s working hard, while I’m just stuck at home again, taking care of things and being left behind. I know it’s important work, and Edelgard said she’d call if she needed help, but when I think of you, and her, and the others all the out way here I –”

“You felt restless.”

“…Yeah.”

He didn’t have the courage to tell her he felt restless, too. They were all scattered, but not alone. Even Petra, far across the ocean, had her family; Bernadetta was all by herself, all alone and far away in that house. Her letters had never implied any problems, nor had the agents he had discreetly installed as her servants without her knowledge, but Hubert could not help the paranoia. He did it for all the others, too; better to have than alive and furious at him than dead from a blade he not could reach.

“The more I thought about it, the more it drove me crazy, so, I wanted to ask you. Because you’re the best person I know. At helping people, I mean. I guess I just needed something to convince me.”

He didn’t have the courage to respond to that, either.

“May I ask what, exactly, brought this on?”

The ball. It had been the ball. A purely political event, to celebrate the departure of the princess of Brigid for her coronation, as well as to reaffirm the friendship between the two countries. Bernadetta had acted strangely the entire time, but Hubert assumed it was just the usual. Her letter had become suspiciously more inquisitive afterwards, too. But pressing the issue now would be fruitless; better to let her lead the conversation and simply follow along, as always.

“Nothing brought it on, I just wanted to do something to help. Edelgard says things are fine, but they’re not. They _can’t_ be, and even if they could, she wouldn’t say anything.” She took a deep breath, gathering the courage to say the words. “So, here I am.”

She said it all so matter-of-factly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world – and worse, she was right – that despite the suddenness of the whole conversation, Hubert could not help but smile. She had that effect on people, strangely. On him.

Even with her face turned away, he could tell Bernadetta was nervous. Hubert made the first silly comment he could think of, something about her doing a good job of taking care of her territory or otherwise he already would have gone to scare her straight, which at least managed to put that ghost of a smile on her face again. He hadn’t lost his touch.

Sitting by his side, she told him everything. It was a simple idea, really. Bernadetta had already expressed a desire to travel to several people, after all. Those who did not know her had been skeptical; someone like that could never travel to Almyra, or Sreng, or Dagda. Where she _could_ go to, however, were the former territories of Faerghus and Leicester. There were places to see there, plants to sketch, old friends to visit. And if she wrote a few letters back home, or sat still and listened to a few conversations she certainly was not interested in, who would care? Most people did not expect anything from her, another oddity in the Emperor’s growing collection. Bernadetta was free to move as she wished, and knew it.

Hubert knew it. He wanted to protest, to tell her to stop caring about the thoughts of foolish idiots, but he couldn’t, because she was right. The part of his mind that never stopped thinking and plotting and suspecting and working was already making plans. Because it could be a good plan, with a little polish. He should have praised her, congratulated her on her initiative, or scolded her for having left him feeling so paranoid that he imagined all the worst scenarios possible.

“You’re allowed to be angry now, by the way.”

He didn’t. He wasn’t. He wasn’t anything, because this…hadn’t been what he expected. 

“I’m not angry.”

Too sudden. Too cold. She would notice.

“Oh.”

_What_ had Hubert expected? The usual. Her being worried over some silly fear, and him calming her down, assuring her that it was nothing. All of his warranties had fallen through, the usual speech he had prepared suddenly left abandoned and forgotten.

“If you don’t want to –”

“That’s not it.” He’d cut her off too brusquely. Her flinch felt like a slap to the face.

What happened afterwards was a bit of a blur. She sat there, eyes full of expectation, while he mumbled about reports and deadlines and taking it into consideration with Her Majesty. By the end, they had both been too awkward to share a proper goodbye, each walking silently to their rooms in opposite sides of the palace. Hubert did not even talk to anyone; just finished his paperwork automatically, not thinking, and laid in bed, staring at the ceiling.

_You’re always good to her._

And did not sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  


_The ball had been an absolute nightmare. Too many politicians, even for a diplomatic event. A crowd of blubbering sycophants Hubert could handle, but not when half of them were drunk and mobbing him relentlessly. They never would have been so bold before, when he was just the Imperial princess’s quiet little aide. Perhaps Linhardt and Lysithea had been the clever ones, to leave after more than three people dared to speak to them. The performance had already gone on for long enough; with the way things were going, by tomorrow morning most of the court would be too hung-over to notice anything, and Hubert and the others would be free to ride to the coast to spend their actual final days with Petra in peace._

_Speaking of Petra, the star of the night was handling herself quite well. She was undoubtedly the one suffering the brunt of the attack, though Hubert was not so far behind himself. He could barely spot Bernadetta in the corner of the room when someone – Leclerc, from the voice and the annoying over-friendly touches – tapped his shoulder from behind and pushed him. “Go rescue her”. As if he needed to be told. All it took were a few quick strides to cross the floor, a smile, and a polite request to borrow Lady Varley for a moment for the mob to scamper away in fear. They walked together to one of the smaller balconies, away from sight, the heat and the smell of alcohol._

_Warm days in Enbarr were more tolerable during the evening. There was even a slight breeze flowing from the southern sea, making it much more pleasant. “Thanks for saving me. One more minute and I would have gone crazy.”_

_“I can imagine. Even I was having trouble handling myself in there.”_

_“I tried to excuse myself so many times, but they didn’t listen! I didn’t even know any of those people!”_

_Of course she didn’t. The court might have been completely different from before, but some things never changed. The Black Eagle Strike Force was composed of not only the Emperor’s best generals, but also her closes friends and inner circle. Anyone desiring even the slightest bit of imaginary reputation and influence flocked over to them like flies; from civil servants wanting to move up the ladder, to errant knights or soldiers looking for a master to serve, to even suitors who insisted on love letters and other exaggerated displays of affection. Dealing with such a horde everyday was, frankly speaking, exhausting, and it even more so when it was to keep it away from the others._

_They stayed there, listening to the faded music, chatting about nothing. Later, Hubert would regret not having noticed the melancholy tone of Bernadetta’s voice, or how her hands anxiously pulled and tied knots on the loose threats of her dress. Instead, he had joked about her being alone like that with him, which caused her to protest that she hadn’t been afraid of him in years. “Look at this!”. She grabbed his hand, turning both of their palms up, and closed her eyes. Hubert could only imagine the scandal if they were caught; The Minister of Imperial Affairs and the Countess of Varley, alone in the dark, holding hands. The risk would be worth it for the look on their faces. After several minutes, the air grew slightly colder and colder, until there it was, floating above their fingers: a single, perfect snowflake._

_“That’s lovely.”_

_“I’ve been practicing, just like you taught me. I can do a lot more now.”_

_“I did notice the suspicious lack of frostbite on my fingers, yes. You’ve certainly improved.”_

She’d tried to freeze his hands on purpose then, but he deserved it. It was a pleasant night, despite everything; the last time they had seem each other in almost four months. 

And now Bernadetta was here, and he had turned his back on her.

Why, exactly, Hubert did not exactly know. Because he’d been surprised? Because the girl he’d been inadvertently pushing aside all this time was asking to be thrown to the wolves with his blessing? Because part of him still thought of her as that frightened child who used to hide under his cape? Because he had been expected something else?

Lady Edelgard was going to be _quite_ disappointed.

Lady Edelgard. Hubert wondered what she thought about all this. She’d been so eager to send Hubert on his way that morning; by then, she had already known everything, while Hubert was none the wiser for the second time in a row. It was pathetic enough to laugh.

Most likely, she was in favor of Bernadetta’s little plan. Ferdinand and the Professor, too, with some convincing. And if the Professor was present, so was Leclerc, always wanting to have his hands on everything – Hubert would _not_ tolerate that. He’d have no choice but to get personally involved.

A consensus, then. This was going to happen, like it or not. Not that Hubert had any reason to dislike it. Not logically, anyway.

_You’re the best person I know._

Sighing, he turned the flower in his hand again for the umpteenth time that night. Aside from a few patches from Tailtean and Fhirdiad, it was practically intact, which was quite impressive. He’d asked Bernadetta about it, once. “It’s an azalea” she’d blushed, as if the name was supposed to mean something to him. Perhaps it should. Hubert knew it was more than just an ornament or gift; after giving it to him Bernadetta… changed. She became more affirmed, more curious about how far she could go with him. At the time, Hubert had simply humored her, as always, but after the day she had gently pulled on his arm to drag him away from work (and a headache) and see the flowers she and Lady Edelgard had planted in the greenhouse, he began to take notice.

He still took notice, even now. Especially now. He just wanted to understand _why_. At first, Hubert feared she might have been planning on some kind of self-punishing crusade of atonement for her father’s crimes, the same way Ferdinand had tried to when he learned the full truth, before Dorothea thankfully put a stop to it. But it couldn’t have been that, because Hubert had been _there_ when Bernadetta had taken a deep breath, forced a smile, and whispered that she still wanted to return to Varley, despite all of his assurances of other available options. Her smile had been forced, but her hug had been firm. He could not have been that blind. 

This was going to happen.

How to act, what to watch for, how to identify allies, what words to use, in writing and in speech; she was going to have to learn it all. Hubert would be the one to teach her, of course. Bernadetta would never tolerate anyone else, and honestly, neither would he. They were going to be spending a lot of time together, even after the training. Having such doubts in his head could ruin everything, in all possible ways.

The solution seemed obvious. If Hubert had one good quality, it was the lack of foolish pride getting in the way of what needed to be done. Just as he had been willing to sit and drink tea he’d previously hated with a man he’d previously hated so as to finally put an end to their foolish arguments, he could go to this girl he actually appreciated to ask her, politely, to tell him the truth, regardless if he already had some inkling of what it might have been. If his suspicions were incorrect, then the two of them would be able to move on as normal, but if they were not, additional measures would have to be taken. And Hubert was never one to go into such a situation unprepared.

Hearing it in his head sounded detestable. Trying to rationalize such a thing with logical arguments was too much, even for him. Hubert knew how to play the Game; how to smile and laugh and be charming, how to say the rights words at the right time to the right person, how to mislead and manipulate and promise. He had simply never bothered to show it, because the Game was reserved solely for those who were too detestable, blind and ambitious to play it, not to anyone he actually considered. For them, it would be the truth, always.

And the truth was that Hubert was not sure. He couldn’t pretend that they had not been crawling towards something for almost two years now, but there was no guarantee it would not be ruined with such a drastic change. And what was he even supposed to say to her? “I apologize for my rudeness; I was surprised because I expected you had come halfway across the Empire to tell me that you wanted to stay near me. Incidentally, would you be willing to abandon all your plans and possibly destroy the trust we have spent all this time building to do exactly that, because I deeply appreciate your company and feel an unwarranted sense of protectiveness over you different than anything else, but that I still should have forsaken ages ago? It’s not that I doubt your capabilities, I just simply cannot stand the thought of you being unhappy and am being incredibly selfish by thinking I can solve it all by myself.” No amount of persuasion could make that work.

_The screaming was too loud, loud enough to go over the thunder and the pounding in his head. Screams of victory, Hubert assumed, since he hadn’t lasted long enough to see the end of the battle. He only remembered fainting in front of the camp in the rear guard, and waking up between feverish dreams in an unknown bed. The pain and medicine made everything seem hazy, but at least he still had enough strength to sit. Bernadetta was there, muttering under her breath. Then came the sharp sensation of metal digging under skin, of soft hands gently spreading something cold against the burning cut in his arm. Slurred words spilled out; a tease, an apology, then a reprimand, then anger – over something she had done, or maybe he had done, it was too confusing to remember – and then their foreheads were touching, and her warm breath so near suddenly felt so clear that it made Hubert’s head hurt even more._

Yet he still wondered what it would be like to see her every day again. To have someone to share meals with on sleepless nights, laugh at his half-clever quips about which of their classmates was being the bother of the day, and to listen and ask questions and unconsciously follow the designs on the teaspoon with her hands as a way to focus while he spoke instead of simply pretending to be interested. Perhaps it was inconvenient, to be bothering her with those questions while Bernadetta thought about much more serious matters, but regardless of what happened next, whatever was between them had clearly already changed, so there might actually not have been a better time than this.

For some reason, Dorothea came to mind – she, usually did, in troublesome situations. What was it that she said? _If you and I were devoted to one another, maybe we could strive for the future you believe in. Maybe I'd finally understand your path, and be able to think about more than just myself_. It had been meaningless at the time, just another one of her little wiles, but right now, it did not seem like such a bad line. Make it sound less like the manipulative trap it had originally meant to be, and perhaps Hubert could even use it without hating himself.

It wouldn’t even be a proposal. More like…a proposal for a proposal. A harmless question. Something that would allow them to move on with their lives afterwards, if Bernadetta did not care for it. She probably wouldn’t, because the whole point of asking such a question was wanting to be _enough_ for someone, which Hubert had barely managed to do even for Lady Edelgard, and _that_ was a different matter entirely than what was happening now. Different, more personal, riskier. With this, there would not be the options to hand it over to the Professor and hope for things to turn out fine. It would be up to him, and him alone.

He’d talk to her tomorrow. Apologize, make things right. It was the least he could do. And if the opportunity came, he would ask her, in the subtlest manner possible. In the meantime, he should rehearse. There were still hours until morning. Getting up from the bed, Hubert walked from one side of the room to the other, trying to form the words in head, taking care to control his movements. There were still hours until morning.

By the time the sun was already high up in the sky, his hands were still shaking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The beginning was awkward, to say the least. Hubert’s face certainly did not help matters; he must have gotten three hours of sleep at most, only because Ferdinand had practically kicked him out of the meeting room by threatening to toss Hubert’s coffee pot out of a window. He was still trying to tidy the creases on his coat when Bernadetta arrived, all quiet and still. They fumbled over their words, going over each other, unsure over who should be first.

“I wanted to apologize for yesterday. I was dismissive and callow.”

“No! No, no, no, no, it’s alright! It was too much, I get it. I mean, someone like me saying something like that.” She put a hand behind her neck, blushing. “Edelgard was surprised, too. We talked a lot, but she still wanted me to see you before I decided anything. I didn’t exactly plan it well.”

“Regardless, you still had good intentions. As sudden as it might have been, I shouldn’t have acted the way I did, and I certainly shouldn’t have let surprise stop me from letting you help. So, let me say it officially: I am sorry.”

Bernadetta flinched again, as if the act of someone apologizing to her, and not the other way around, was physically painful. “Don’t say that,” she murmured, before her eyes widened in realization and her head turned. “Wait, so does that mean you agree with everything I said? All of it? I wasn’t exaggerating when I said I didn’t actually plan anything.”

“As a matter of fact, I do. You almost sound like you want me to refuse.”

“Not, it’s not that, I just…Ugh, never mind. Forget I said anything. I’m just glad you didn’t throw me out of the palace.”

“I assure you, I was ever going to throw anyone out of the palace, you would not be the first. Tenth or eleventh at most.” _Stop stalling. Ask her_. He was careful, keeping his voice as neutral but gentle as possible. “But, before we settle the matter, I believe there is still something else left to discuss.”

It was a repeat of yesterday. The same place, same time, same way Bernadetta folded her arms and muttered a quiet “right” to put herself together, and the same question. _Why are you here?_

It started slowly. “I wasn´t lying before, when I said I fought because I wanted to stay with you all. I never cared about the Church, or the bad things they did. Not at first.” She took a deep breath, as if a weight had been lifted, and did not speak for a long time after that. Hubert let her. He owned her that. “After the Professor went missing, I just wanted to go home and pretend the war wasn’t happening. Edelgard would have let me if I asked, and I knew it. But the more I listened to her, to the things she wanted to do, and the more I thought about what my life would have been like if she had never tried to change things, I realized I _did_ believe in it, and I _did_ want to help. She saved me. You both did.”

What her life would have been like. Sold off to the highest bidder from a pool of well-to-do degenerates with old names, most likely, who would tolerate her at best or rape her to the breaking point at worst. Afterwards, she’d either die from health complications or despair, or just outright take her own life; the families would join to attend to the socially expected amount of public mourning, compensations would be exchanged, and attentions turned to the next heir, if there was one. Hubert could feel his nails digging into skin. _Stop thinking about that. It will never happen. You would never allow it._

“I have never done anything for you.”

“Yes, you have. You were always so nice to me, even before. You pretend to be angry, but I know you only do it because you want us to be able to take care of ourselves. You watch out for us, keeps us from causing trouble. Like right now.” She smiled. “And you always tell the truth, no matter how bad it is. I can always trust you to help me, or scold me when I do something wrong. That’s how I knew it was right for me to stay.”

Hubert wanted to tell her she had never _needed_ his help, not for important that actually mattered. At most, he had stood by her side while Bernadetta made every important decision entirely on her own. Late-night meals and birthday presents and stolen moments in the dark hardly made him a savior.

“And now?”

“And now…I don’t know exactly how to explain it. Remember our last day with Petra, at the beach? We were all happy, and together, until we weren’t. Everyone went away after that, and that’s not the problem, because I knew it was going to happen. The real problem was that you all went, and I _stayed_.” No soft confessions this time. The words were spat out, as if they were some type of irredeemable sin. “I said I wanted to fix the mess back home, that’s still true, but out of nowhere I started getting this awful feeling that, if I wasn’t here, something horrible was going to happen. Like it would fall apart. Which is stupid, because I can’t control everything, and have to trust that you and the others are okay. I _know_ that.”

“But it still hurt.”

“It still hurt.” 

_The hunters had stopped trying to be careful after the third day. They could just make up some excuse to tell the lord on the way back to Enbarr. Hubert could barely move after all the punches, his clothes caked with mud and blood where the dogs had dragged him. All it would take would be a spell, just a spark, to let him walk a bit farther, to be a bit closer to where she was. Another kick came, knocking the air out of his lungs. Revenge for all the resistance. Later, his father would not even acknowledge the bruises, or him, at all. Hubert stopped praying after that, or at least believing there was some sort of miraculous justice in the world not made by humans themselves. It would take a long, long time before he found something, someone, to put his hopes in._

“I thought a lot – or as much as I could – and came here. Honestly, up until yesterday, even with Edelgard being happy, I still wasn’t really sure if it was a good idea. But when you said all those things, about how the good I did made up for the bad reasons, about how my feelings didn’t matter when there’s something much more important out there, it finally helped me to decide again.” He shouldn’t have said it like that, not so bluntly, not if he knew what it was really about. “It’s not fair to try to use you so I can feel better, but also, just because I can’t control everything doesn’t mean I can’t do at least a little more. And I wanted you to tell me that I could, because that’s what you do. You help people be better.

Forget “too much”, this was a wreck. A complete disaster. 

“So, uh, to answer your question, that’s it. I suppose I just wanted to…be _enough_ for someone, if that makes sense.”

Might as well go on until the end, then.

Ignorant as he was to this sort of thing, Hubert still knew a little. There were requirements, procedures that he had spent the past day burning into his mind and which had all gone completely to hell the minute Bernadetta started talking. The moment seemed right, and there was no way he was ever going to regain his composure, so what else could go wrong?

“I understand. Thank you for telling me.”

“Thank you for not throwing me out of the palace.”

“I told you, you are not the first on my list.” Moving closer – _too close. Is it too much? Is this appropriate?_ – Hubert did his best to keep his voice steady. “I won’t stop you if you want to go.”

Her hands moved to a stray lock that had fallen over her eyes, still unused to having longer hair after all this time. “I do, but not right now. There’s things left to do back home, to help my mother with, and I also have to learn about how all of this works. It’s going to take a while.”

“Take all the time you need.” _Keep going. Don’t stutter_. “Speaking of your mother, I imagine you are going to ask her to manage things while you are away?”

“Probably, yeah. She still ends up practically running everything even when I’m there, so it’s not like it will make that much of a difference.” She gave a quick sideways glance. “Unless you or Edelgard want to suggest someone else.”

“That’s –” He didn’t stutter. That wasn’t a stutter, it was hesitation, which was almost equally worse. “It’s not exactly a suggestion, more like a consideration. _Wrong, all wrong. That’s not what you want to ask_. “You said you trusted me.”

“Of course I do, but what –” Now it was Bernadetta’s turn to hesitate. “Wait, you really –”

“If you’d be willing, then I would.”

“I would! Wait, I mean no! I mean –” She covered her face with her hands. “Oh, goddess. Please don’t tell me I have been doing such a bad job that you want to fix it yourself.”

“Of course not.”

“Then _why_?”

“Because, if you are going to do so much for me, it’s only fair that I do the same. Because I trust you.” _Better_. “Because I think we can do good things together.”

The words just spilled out after that. Hubert told her it was perfectly understandable to be surprised, and to need time to answer, or to answer at all. He had thought about it at length, spoken about with Lady Edelgard – in a sense – and decided it could, perhaps, be something good for them both. And speaking of Lady Edelgard, Hubert was, of course, aware of the rumors, but they were simply that: rumors. A completely different situation entirely. _Different from I what I think I feel for you_ went unmentioned. 

There had been a list. Long and overly detailed, full of the rights arguments to use at the right time, in the right tone, gentle and composed as to not sound too sudden, but also firm enough to not give her room to have the wrong idea. Now, it was just a babble, a mess that came with no room left to breathe. Saying too much to actually say nothing at all.

Bernadetta, meanwhile, just said nothing. There was a look on her the face, not the familiar anxious one, but just…blank, which was a bad sign. With her, silence and that face were usually a suggestion of either fainting or a scream.

“Are you all right?”

“F-fine I’m fine. It’s just, Edelgard. She said I needed to listen, before I do something stupid. S-so that’s why I was doing. Listening.”

She was the same as him, speaking automatically, not really knowing what was happening. “Right. Of course.”

He was almost starting to wish for a scream.

“You do not have to answer right away.”

“I know. I just,” she repeated. “I need to make sure I have this right.” A bit of color returned to her face, followed by a deep breath to show that she was conscious. “I thought you were asking me to marry you.”

_Hell._

“That…is what I was asking, yes.”

A scream _definitely_ seemed appropriate. 

Hubert would have known how to deal with that, or a denial, or discussion over how he should have chosen Edelgard or Petra or Shamir but he _hadn’t_ and –”

“Can I hug you?” 

He managed to mumble something about how she had never bothered to ask permission before her arms were wrapped around him. The wind was starting to pick up, but Hubert just felt warm, and extremely tired; Bernadetta too, from the way she sighed against his chest.

“I think we both have had enough honesty for one day.”

“Me too. Do you regret it?”

“I do not. You?”

“Me neither.”

She hugged him tighter.

“I’m sorry. I realize I’m not exactly an ideal suitor.”

“It’s fine. Like you said, it’s been a weird day. We can do it right tomorrow.”

Hubert never knew what to do with his hands when they did this. He tried settling them at her back, feeling the warmth again even through his gloves.

“Buying time to run away? I don’t blame you.”

“Giving you time to change your time.”

Her hair smelled so sweet. How come he had never noticed?

“I suppose we’ll just have to surprise each other again tomorrow, then.”


	2. Living

They hadn’t wanted a commotion, so naturally, that was exactly what happened. There were letters to send, arrangements to make, several trips between Varley and Enbarr, and a million other affairs to put in order. Months later, everything was finally in place: a quiet, private event, with only the Professor and Lady Edelgard as witnesses (there were technically no legal proceeding authorizing an Emperor to perform such a duty, but when Hubert pointed it out, he was just told to hush and stop acting like a killjoy), and then a simple dinner with close friends. 

Simple as anything could be with them, anyway; Petra had sent five apology letters and a pile of gifts that nearly reached Hubert’s waist, Caspar was jumping around the room, and Lysithea was trying to discreetly stuff a cream puff into Linhardt’s bag. Usually, Hubert would have at least tried to rein the rabble in, but he figured he could afford to let them be troublesome, just for the night.

Someone’s arm wrapped around his. “Hubie.”

“Lady Aegir. You’re looking quite pleased with yourself.”

“Just admiring the fruits of my work.”

“ _Your_ work?”

“ _My_ work. I claim _aaaaall_ responsibility for this! Well, me and Edie, but that’s supposed to be a secret.”

“Then I will just pretend I did not hear it.” Dorothea laughed, a sound that used to come so easily before the war, and was only now finally starting to return. “Did you come here to gloat, or was there something more?”

“Oh, _plenty_ more. There’s quite a few people upset that you’re no longer available, did you know? You’re quite the catch.”

“Worth my weight in gold.”

“I’m serious! Even back at the Academy, I remember hearing girls swoon about how _handsome_ and _broody_ you were.”

“I don’t – I do not _brood_.”

“No, but you _do_ tend to wax poetic like a drunken playwright. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about. Women fall for that sort of thing.”

“Well, believe me when I say that is not the usual effect I wish to have on people. Your husband is still angry at me, by the way.”

“Of course he is, because he’s a miserable brat and so are you. I mean, really, Hubie? Writing to me right away when I’m halfway across Fódlan, but waiting five days to tell poor Ferdie when he’s literally in the room next door?”

“He would have been too noisy. And besides, I like you much more than I do him.”

“Don’t try to flatter me, Hubie. Even if it’s true, you know it won’t work.”

“I was simply stating a fact. And anyway, were you not here to threaten to break my arms in half in case I ever do something untoward, or something of the sort? I’d be disappointed if you weren’t.”

She rested her head on his shoulder, sighing. “Nah, I know you. Big Bad Hubie likes to pretend he’s a cold-blooded lizard, but deep down, he’s just a big softie who cares more than anyone else here.”

“Lizard?”

“Or a snake. Either of those fits.” Across the room, Bernadetta giggled when the Professor stole her from Leclerc’s arm to dance with her himself. “It’s good to see you like this.”

“Dressed in something that is not black? I’ve gotten four compliments already. Apparently, grey suits me quite well.”

“ _Happy_ , you ass. Like you’ve finally stopped holding your breath after all this time.”

“I’m…not sure of what that means.”

“You do.” He did. “And you know I’m happy for you and her, right?”

“I do.”

“You better, or I’d break your arms in half.” She stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “You and Ferdie might be miserable brats, but you’re mine, so just deal with it. Now, go and have fun with your wife.”

He did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The house was small, but still filled with enough subtle details that betrayed its original purpose: its location, far enough from any large and populated areas, but not completely removed from any outside contact; the great piano in the side room, with a name engraved in gold on the lid; the well-stocked larder and well-maintained bedrooms, sufficient for a lengthy stay. Hubert could probably name with ease which previous Hresvelgs and their…companions had used the place – the result of hours of lessons pouring over family trees, memorizing names of mistresses and bastards – but maybe Bernadetta did not need to know that.

“I hope Edelgard never gets married,” she muttered, running her hands through the wooden walls. “I don’t think I could ever get her something better than this.”

“Perhaps it would be better if you did not mention that out loud.” He set their belongings on the floor, and watched her walk slowly across the main hall, inspecting everything. Sometimes, the rays of light coming from the windows would catch the silver ring on her finger, making it glint. Hubert would count ten times before he realized she had already finished, while he hadn’t even moved from his spot. 

That was Lady Edelgard’s gift for them: two weeks to themselves, away from everyone and everything save the occasional courier with letters, and a threat of exile if Hubert was ever caught working. He’d been nervous about being far away for so long, but this was more important. His first test. If Ferdinand could do it, so could Hubert. Even if he was hungry and tired, which always made him think too much, he could afford not to think about _Arundel in the ruins of Fhirdiad, holding Thunderbrand, eyeing his prize. The weapon pulsed, responding to something. The streets flowed with Rhea’s blood. The blood. They would want it. Hubert had to –_

Something warm closed around his hand. “I think it’s better if we eat before we rest. I’ll see if I can make something quick.” She pulled him along to the kitchen, and he followed, suddenly too hazy with sleep to think of anything more than the silver and a bed.

Married life, or at least this particular little prelude, had proven to be…more pleasant than expected. Perhaps because, even with all the _domesticity_ – a word Hubert thought would never apply to him – not much had actually changed about them, except for sleeping in the same bed (and Hubert quickly discovering his use as quite an efficient pillow). There were no grand romantic gestures or declarations, just…conversations. Plain, normal conversations with absolutely nothing of note. 

Hubert never had much in the way of interesting topics or happy memories to share. So, instead, whenever Bernadetta laid down with her head on shoulder, he told her stories. Lessons from his childhood that had him pouring over history books with glittering eyes under the covers, late at night: of the bandit king of Leicester who was said to have commanded an army of crows, and called himself the reincarnation of one of the Ten Elites; of the Emperor who fought and won a duel in the air with an Almyran general; of the Imperial prince who sailed east with an entire fleet in search of a mystical land, and was never seen again. 

The other stories, secrets whispered between generations of Vestras of the things nobles did in the dark, he kept to himself. 

“I can stop talking if you’re tired.”

“I’m not sleeping,” Bernadetta mumbled lazily, almost too quiet to hear. “I’m just under the cover because I’m cold.”

“That is not exactly what I asked.”

She mumbled again, something incoherent this time. Hubert watched her breathing steady, her arms tangle in the mess of pillows before deciding that, he too felt a suddenly inexplicable sensation of cold, and going to lay by her side.

That was what they did. Talk, and stay together.

There was a garden, complete with a pond. On clear days, Bernadetta would sit at the pier with her feet in the water, while Hubert read under the shade of a tree. Domesticity again. Sometimes, when he leaned back to close his eyes and feel the breeze, his mind wandered. Of course it did. When your job was essentially a single person, there was never a way to ever stop working. But this was also his job now. 

“For someone who’s always claiming to hate the outdoors, you seem quite comfortable here.” 

“It’s not the _outdoors_ , it’s the back yard. Still counts as our house. And even if it wasn’t, it’s better when I’m with someone I like.”

“A back yard with no fences and miles of forest all around?”

“Still counts.” Her pale skin was slightly tanned, unused to being in the sun for so long. “Staying in the shade all the time won’t help, you know. Your face is all red.”

It had been for a while now, ever since she mentioned _their_ house. “It’s just a bit of sunburn.” He buried his face in his book so could not see, managing to catch a glimpse of red on her own face.

This place would not be home for much longer. They’d go back to Enbarr afterwards, so that Bernadetta could start her training, and after _that_ , well…it was to be decided. Lady Edelgard offered more than once to have Bernadetta move to the capital permanently and manage Varley from there, or even leave it all to her mother; there was precedent for such a situation, and it would be understandable, given her new duties. Twenty-seven years of discipline kept Hubert from objecting when she refused. It was her right to decide how to best deal with her responsibilities, so he would just have to simply accept and support it. It was a strange mixture of wanting her close, but also being immensely proud of her willingness to solve things her own way, that had hounded Hubert for all his life, and that he suspected would never truly go away. 

“You can cook?”

“I can do enough to not starve myself to death, anyhow. A life-or-death skill for anyone living near Dorothea.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever eaten any of her food.”

“Because we were always smart enough to let _you_ do the cooking if you were around.”

“Speaking of that, you should tell me what you like. I could try and make it for us.”

“Don’t bother, my taste in food is bland at best. Just focus on what you want.”

“I am.”

He wondered if she would even be happy at Enbarr. That city was, in and of itself, a creature like nothing else in Fodlán. As a child, Hubert was put to walk the streets at night, to know every passage and corner, every hole where people hid and gathered. Those who sneered at House Vestra for not having a territory of their own were fools.

“How did you figure out that you liked magic?”

“Well, it was less that I liked it and more of it being the only thing left I could have possibly been good at. An acquaintance of mine was a sort of prodigy, and offered me a few lessons. She was…quite the teacher.”

“What was she like?”

“Brilliant. Only two years than me, and could never hold anything heavier than a plume, but all it took were a few spells, and she could freeze half the castle in minutes. Which did happen. Frequently.”

“She sounds…nice. Do you two still talk?”

 _Their shrouds were silver and gold, as befitting their station. Ten bodies lined in a row. A horrible disease, Father said, too dangerous for anyone else to go near. Hubert had sneaked in at night, one last goodbye before the flames. Elizabeth, who made animals out of light and watched him perform his first spell. Claw marks where her eyes used to be. Lukas, always with a girl on each arm. Skin black and rotted. Little Lyse, only eight, stealing treats from the kitchens. Limbs should not bend that way. No disease could do that. They were gone, all gone, but Hubert could still save one. Father_ lied. 

“We fell out of contact. Her family was a minor one, and they moved away years ago.”

“That’s a shame. But if she’s as smart as you said, then she’s probably doing fine, right?”

“Right.”

He would make it safe for her. He would make her happy. 

“Drawing something interesting?”

“No! I mean, yes. I’m drawing, but not something interesting. It’s boring.”

“You don’t have to tell me. I did not mean to pry.”

“No, I’m sorry, it’s just…instinct. You can ask. I was, uhm, painting this. Us. And it’s okay if you think it’s bad, I know you don’t like paintings.”

“I enjoy _your_ paintings.”

“You…don’t have to say that.”

“Why not? You were the one who said I always told the truth, remember?”

“…Right. You do.”

They were in the garden again, later than the usual time. The day started out as usual: waking up, then dressing and eating, except that, halfway through breakfast, the two of them had just looked at each from across the table, and without a single word exchanged, climbed up to bed again to sleep until nearly noon. Dark clouds started to form in the distance, but Bernadetta seemed in no hurry to move, and honestly, neither did Hubert.

She liked to have him near sometimes while painting, to help her focus. Hubert respected her need for space for her work, just as he needed his, but watching others was second nature to him, and especially with her. For example, he could tell Bernadetta only needed three or four glances to paint a scenery, but faces and people were a whole other matter of hours of closed eyes and tapping on the paper. She could spend minutes doing nothing and then go so fast that her hands moved like a blur, too focused too notice anything else before suddenly snapping back to reality, just like in a battle. It wouldn’t take much longer.

Finally, she put the paper down, sighing deeply. “Finished?”

“No, I’m just…happy.” Before Hubert had a chance to respond, she moved to sit in front of him. “Hi.”

“Hello.”

She began to run her hands gently over his face, thumb drawing circles on his cheek, too distracted to notice the sound of thunder. “Making sure I get the details right”. She had such a fascination with his hair, always playing with that stubborn lock that refused to stay up. Hubert had been struggling against that particular enemy for years, but figured there was no harm in letting Bernadetta have her chance. 

“You might be fighting a losing battle,” he chuckled, not hearing what she grumbled before pulling her closer. Their lips touched; once, twice, then fully, and Hubert realized, with a feeling that was starting to become more and more common, just how far he would be willing to go for this girl. This was still new, a mere scratch on the surface of what they could do, but it was terrifying the way his self-control seemed to fade completely with just a simple thing. It was terrifying, and he never wanted to stop. The rain could wait a bit longer. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The letters arrived three days before they were set to leave. Hubert’s was sealed with blue wax and the design of a winged creature; remnants of a childhood game, hiding messages behind vases and statues in the palace corridors. Lady Edelgard had to delay the message for as long as possible, the letter said, but the truth would be bound to come out sooner or later. Better to give them time to process it fully than face the whispers of the court unprepared. 

Bernadetta read hers in silence. The only signs of life were her hands crumpling the paper, like lips of a sleeper fogging a mirror. It had been so easy for Hubert to run from this before, justifying himself with assurances that empty sympathy would make it worse, so it was better to not even try. And now here he was, standing still like a fool, not knowing whether to leave, or stay, or talk, or say nothing at all. _I’ve never been much for condolences_. How pathetic.

So, instead, he just sat by her side, held her hand, and asked, “What do you need me to do?”

They laid down in bed. The windows were opened, letting in the breeze and afternoon sun. Bernadetta had her head on his chest, while Hubert just held her tight, trying to not fall asleep. He did not want to risk not being there for her, even for a single minute. Time passed in silence, with only their breaths stirring. 

An illness, the message said. It had to be, because Hubert had eyes even there, and this was certainly not his work. It was laughable, really, and karmic in its own way. Years of torturing his own child, but only one stripped of all dignity and locked away in the deepest, darkest hole in the Empire had been enough to make the good Count Varley expire. Ferdinand’s father at least had the decency of taking his own life when he realized Lady Edelgard’s plans were much more than simply a child playing at war, but the good Count had resisted even as the guards dragged him away. Hubert would have been happy to put the man’s head in a chopping block if Bernadetta hadn’t intervened, and even then, she just wanted the matter done with and out of her sight as quickly as possible, which he had happily complied with.

“You think I’m an idiot.”

He kissed her forehead. “And why would I think that?”

“Because I should be happy, or angry. Sometimes I think I forgot to how feel angry. And it’s a waste of time to be sad.”

“ _Are_ you sad?”

“No. I’m not feeling anything. It’s…good, and horrible, and weird. Better than feeling empty.”

She was numb, mumbling nonsense. But the words still stuck to him nonetheless. _Better than feeling empty_. Hubert did not ask about what they meant, or about the scars on her arms. It was better for some things to stay in the past, for both of their sakes. Hubert could not bear being powerless ever again.

“Hubert?”

“Hmm?”

“What was your family like?”

And there it was. The big question. 

The others knew what he had done, of course. All of Adrestia knew, and Hubert did not care. The ones who mattered knew enough to understand, and all the rest, the ones who whispered and turned their gazes away out of fear when he passed, were just fuel for the fire. If they wanted to believe he was a cold-hearted, unfeeling monster with no remorse, so be it. It would just make his job easier.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have – “

“No, it’s fine. You have the right to know.”

The girl who was hurt by her father, and the man who had killed his own. What a pair they made.

“Mother” was just a vision of impossibly long black hair that might not even have been real. Even from a young age, asking never wielded answers, but there were still a few morsels: a good girl from a good family, gone before her time; a white handkerchief with the faint hues of white wine and blood; a box of jewels, hidden away in a safe beneath the floorboards. Hubert would not have even found it if he hadn’t gone back to his childhood home one last time, after it had become vacant. Compared to the order of the office, the box was covered in dust, but its contents were still well-polished and smelling of perfume. It was the only thing in the place worth keeping, in all ways, tucked away safely in his desk drawer until he had finally found a better use for them than childish nostalgia.

As for his father…

There was affection, or something resembling it, a lifetime ago. He remembered staring angrily at the parlor doors whenever the other great lords visited, taking away Father’s time with gambling and games of cards. Even for a Vestra, Hubert was too young to understand what those words truly meant. Too young to fully understand his duty, too; but the Book of Seiros said to always respect your mother and father, and Father said to watch over Lady Edelgard. Hubert was a good boy who always did his duty, all of his tutors said so. He did his duty.

Until that day. 

_The palace walls are stuffed with countless truths, all of them concealed by the stones and mortar of fact_. Professor Hanneman was right. The Marquis was a practical man who did not seek power for its own sake. Instead, he chose to cooperate with monsters and traitors to survive on the nest of vipers of the Imperial court. A rat on a sinking ship, latching desperately onto others just to keep its head above the water for a second longer. Head above the water, and then buried on the ground, feigning helplessness, refusing to see the Empire slowly crumbling to dust. The Church had been content to do nothing; it needed to give the nobles an illusion of control, an entertainment to keep them busy so that it could thrive. Some of the monks whispered of divine providence, that the Hresvelgs were finally paying for their carelessness before the Goddess. Carelessness, indeed.

The three years that followed were a hazy memory until the day Lady Edelgard was _there, alive_ , holding a knife to his throat, and Hubert decided that he, too, could be practical. He knew his duty now, knew the role both of them would have to play. The difference was, they would win; win, or at least make sure that those who deserved it burned with them. The books that used to fascinate him, the stories of brave knights fighting for honor and justice, were now tales of zealotry and arrogance, of people unwilling to do what needed to be done just to claim a moral high ground while everything fell apart around them. Faerghus had paid the price with Duscur, and all of Fódlan would pay the price with ruin if Lady Edelgard did not act against the shadows. Hubert would play his role, and they would win. 

There was no such thing as honor, only lines not to be crossed. Father had crossed his lines, and lost. He had accepted the part of the ruthless, cold-hearted corrupter, with all the consequences it entailed. In that regard, perhaps father and son were not so different after all.

“Don’t say that.”

Bernadetta’s voice shook Hubert awake. He was the one mumbling now, mind hazy with sleep and no idea of how much he had said.

“You’re not like that.” She held him tighter, closer, and he instinctively did the same for her. “I’ve seen it. You try so hard to protect everything; Edelgard, us, the Empire. And you’re willing to do anything for it, even letting people think horrible things about you when they don’t know the truth. I’m always so afraid of the bad things in my head, that I have to force them out so I won’t break even when I know they can’t really happen, but for you, the bad things are _real_ , and you go on anyway. That’s why I love you.”

She was already asleep by the time he had enough self-consciousness to say it back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The feeling of missing someone was…uncomfortable, at best. There were exactly eleven people in the world Hubert would dare say he liked, and out of those eleven, nine he could manage to live away from, one had been by side every day for more than twenty years, and the other…the other, he was still deciding on. 

Respites were lovely, but now it was time to go back to the real world, and in the real world, plans changed. 

_B,_

_I have often been told that I am not the most eloquent when writing letters, and although present circumstances should have been enough to change it, I also won’t bore you with any unnecessary details. Things here are the same as they have always been. If anyone has news to tell, I imagine it would be you, so I will strive to be a good listener._

_Yours,_

_H._

Hubert thought they would have more time, or rather, _wanted_ more time, but Bernadetta had been extremely stubborn on the matter. There seemed to be quite the wave of stubborn women in his life, Hubert noticed. Perhaps it said something about him personally.

The worse thing was, it was not even really a change of plans. Sooner than expected, yes, but he still knew it was coming, and simply opted not to think about it. 

“You look…what was the word you always used? Distracted? Dejected? Despairing?”

“Shut up.”

“It’s alright to admit you miss her, you know? Perhaps now you can finally understand how I feel!”

“You’re a miserable brat, von Aegir.”

This was merely a test, something simple to start with. A “diplomatic” trip to Brigid, with no stakes. A cover. Practically no risks or danger. 

_Hubert,_

_I’ve been thinking a lot about that story you told me, the one with the almyrans that visited a few moons ago. How they thoughts all those weirds things about Fódlan because of the Church. Petra tries to hide it, but I think here it’s even worse, and it makes her pretty upset. They have a rumor about how Fódlan has these big, black rats from the north that can bring diseases, and that the reason the Church didn’t want to talk to foreigners was out fear of spreading it outside. The guards were so nervous that they ended up checking the entire ship the day I arrived, but they didn’t find anything. I suppose I can understand about the ship, but I don’t think rats can swim, or cross mountains. At least, I hope so._

_Take care,_

_Bernadetta._

She looked so…excited, that day on the pier. They had already said their goodbyes privately, so Hubert was able to send her off with a handshake and a “stay safe”. No time or place for worries and grandiose displays; he would soon have to leave the capital himself, anyway. There was work to be done, for both of them.

_B,_

_If I recall correctly, the phrase the almyran ambassador used was something amongst the lines of “arrogant, foppish idiots too obsessed with the sound of their own voices and gigantic buildings to remember that the rest of the world exists”, missing, of course, the more colorful terms. He then proceeded to suggest I share a drink with him to unwind, because I supposedly looked like, and I quote, “too sour and miserable of a bastard”. I think I preferred it better when they were trying to invade and kill us all._

_PS: Petra requested a list of ingredients to be sent along with this letter. Apparently, some of the members of her court do not approve of her Fódlan influence or our alliance, and she wishes to change their minds accordingly with a bit of taste-testing._

_Yours,_

_H._

He’d taken the main road this time, instead of the usual, more discreet paths. Rumors would spread soon enough anyway, so there was no point to hiding his presence. On the contrary, Hubert wanted people to see him, to hear what they whispered behind his back. This was merely the first step.

The place was…vulgar, if such a word could be used to describe it. Ostentatious. The type to be found in the wealthier neighborhoods in the capital, with the only objective of displaying power and wealth for the whole world to see. But while those buildings still had their place and dignity in the city streets, here, in this valley in the middle of nowhere, it seemed obscene; additions and ornaments were built hastily around and on top of each, like the house was trying desperately to reach the height of the mountains behind it. Hubert felt disgusted just by looking at the thing.

Fortunately, looking was all he did. No sooner had he gotten past the front door before some terrified, wide-eye servant came running out of breath to inform him that the lady of the manor had politely requested that he stay in the nearby guest house instead. The man’s entire body shook, his voice a pathetic attempt at composure, as if he wanted to beg forgiveness just for existing. There was something wrong with leg, Hubert noticed, and he was not the only one; the other servants, or at least the one he’d been able to see, all had some sort of mark or old injury, visible or not. Another item to add to his list after the main matter was done.

Breakfast was already waiting for him the following morning. Hubert ate in silence in an empty room, gazing out the window. Finally, the door opened, and even without turning his head, he could tell from the footsteps that this was no terrified servant hiding and watching in the shadows.

“Lord Vestra.”

Hubert bowed. It was only proper of him to greet his host. “Lady Varley”

_Hubert,_

_Petra took me flying around one of the islands today. They don’t have wyverns here, so everyone always looks up and cheers when she goes on a ride. We went to one of the cliffs on the coast so I could get a good view for my drawings. The sea here feels different from Fódlan, in a good way. Maybe it’s the people, but it just seems…livelier, I guess. In the end, I spent almost the whole day looking at it that I barely payed attention to the plants at all, so we might have to come back another time._

_I hope everything is good there. Brigid is nice, but I still like staying at home the most. I miss everyone._

_Take care,_

_~~Bernie~~ Bernadetta. _

They did not look alike. 

He did not want to admit it, but it was the truth. Someone with a better eye might have been able to find some resemblance; cheekbones, the way lips curled during a smile, furrowed browns, _something_. But for Hubert, there was nothing.

“Please, do not call me that. It is my daughter’s title now. Call me Amalia, if you wish, or nothing at all.”

He bowed again, never one to forget his manners. “Madam Amalia, then.”

For a second, it seemed like she would protest, but one look from Hubert was enough to make it clear that he would not budge on the subject. Instead, she pulled a nearby chair and sat down, her expression and manners neutral.

For several minutes, neither of them spoke, content with simply admiring the scenery outside. There were no pleasantries, no _I hope you had a pleasant journey_ , my Lord or _I apologize for making you wait_. Hubert could respect that. And the more the silence stretched on, the more it gave him an opportunity to fully observe the woman in front of him.

Amalia von Varley. A brilliant mind, people whispered. The woman who had filled the Enbarr markets with businesses and the city coffers with gold; who reformed the northern trades routes to make them the most lucrative than they had been in years, earning the envy of the Minister of Internal Affairs himself; who had singlehandedly kept House Varley from falling apart due to her husband’s completely ineffectual ventures. Rumors painted the picture of more of a myth than a human, yet Hubert could still little cracks in the façade: subtle streaks of white in her brown curls, unusual for someone of that age, or the way her right arm did not seem to move quite right, as if it not healed properly from a fracture. Her posture, however, always remained tall and dignified, worthy of someone who not only survived the Imperial Court, but thrived in it. An experienced player.

“I would like to apologize for not being present during the festivities. My daughter did offer me an invitation, but I imagined it would have been a rather much more pleasant event without my attendance.”

“You were busy with your duties. She understood.”

“Yes, I suppose she must have.”

For all her notoriety, neither Hubert nor Lady Edelgard had ever met the so called genius in person. Varley was one of the first places seized at the beginning of the war, and the now former lady had been quick to pledge loyalty and perform her duties quietly. There were even discussions on letting her keep the management of the territory if Bernadetta had not desired it, and even now, it still fell to her to maintain things in order while her daughter was away. Marriage or no, this was bound to happen eventually.

Hubert had enough courtesy to let her begin.

“I can only imagine what you must think of me. The horrible things she must have told you. And they are all true.”

“As a matter of fact, she was actually quite thoughtful. She respects you.”

“Of course she does. She does not know me. How could she, when I abandoned her?”

“You tried to make amends. That is more than most ever do.”

“Come now, my Lord. With all due respect, while I appreciate the civility, there is no need for such politeness. Say what you would truly like to say.”

“With all due respect, Madam, I did not travel all the way here to discuss my feelings on _you_.”

There was silence again, and then a laugh. A broken, pitiful thing.

“And _there_ is the bluntness that everyone fears. It is an honor to meet you, Hubert von Vestra.”

Her expression softened, and finally, _finally_ , in that sad look, there was something recognizable. 

“Would you please hear what I have to tell?”

_B,_

_I have been watering your plants personally, as requested. I can’t tell much about their constitution, but they are alive. For someone of my talents, I suppose it is enough._

_Dorothea is here. By here, I mean in the capital, in my office, hovering over my shoulder. Apparentely, being the wife of a prime minister and having command over an entire region still guarantees time for childish antics. The pile of agricultural reports hovering in the corner can certainly wait for their lady to finish her meddling and_

_Apologies for the ink stain. A clumsy mistake. Dorothea wishes to communicate that the situation in the capital has become absolutely unbearable without you due to my boorish, dull, tiresome behavior, and that she wishes for you to come back soon so she can have someone interesting to talk to. On the latter, she and I agree._

_Waiting for you,_

_H._

No one could have truly predicted the Insurrection. Power plays and puppet Emperors were all too common in Adrestian history, but to do it on such a scale, and so openly, was unimaginable. The ramifications for every noble family across the Empire, be they great or small, rich or poor, were immeasurable.

“Permit me to make this one thing clear, at least: I had no hand or knowledge of my husband’s plans. Though I suspect you already knew that, given that I still have my life.”

“I was aware, yes.”

For the first time in nearly a hundred years, ever since the dissolution of the Southern Church, House Varley found itself with true power. They were genuine players now, and maintaining that newfound stature would be no easy feat. 

“Make no mistake, we knew exactly the type of men Arundel and the Prime Minister were. One single misstep and we would share the Imperial family’s fate, if not worse.” By we, she meant herself, of course. There was nobody else who could have shared her insight and capabilities. “It was decided that I would go to the capital, to better promote the House’s interests, and to make sure Aegir kept to his end of the deal. There was no other way to protect our family.”

She hugged her shoulders in another familiar gesture. The composure from before was now gone, replaced with dejected resignation.

“That was I told myself, at the time. In truth, I simply desired an excuse to run away. A chance to be in control for once. Eventually, I convinced myself that, could keep us afloat, maybe even secure a proper marriage, perhaps…perhaps things would be better for her. And I did have an ally here.”

“An ally?”

“My brother.” The words caught in her throat, bringing a clear sensation of pain. “He…passed away, thirteen years ago. A hunting accident.”

 _Hunting accident_. Hubert was old enough now to know the truth behind such a phrase. 

“I see.”

As faded as his memories of that time were, the death of a relative of one of the Great Six Families, especially under such…circumstances, was something he should have clearly remembered, something that should have been a scandal at court. Yet, again, there was nothing. No gossip, no rumors, no importance. A meaningless, hushed-over affair.

“Is that you why sent her away?”

“It was the best option. Even back them, Lady Edelgard already had a reputation for being stronger than her father. So did the Aegir boy. Even if the arrangements had initially fallen through, if he met her, then maybe he could have…changed his mind. And Hevring and Bergliez’s sons were there as well.” Her hands gripped the wooden chair so tightly that they trembled, but her voice came at a low whisper. “It was the only way out for women in our position.”

For the first time since the conversation began, she turned her head. From head to toe, her eyes followed Hubert, always with that miserable smile.

“In the end, I suppose I got exactly what I wished for.”

_Hubert,_

_It’s really strange. When we were marching with the army, we’d pick a place, make a camp, and after a bit of time to get used to it, that was home; then, a few days later, it was time to leave, and everything started all over again. Some people live their whole lives like that. Doesn’t it sound frightening, just going off somewhere, not having a place to go back to? I think it does. The only reason I was able to come here at all is because ~~I know you’re wating I know everyone is I promised I’d try to~~ I know you’re waiting. _

_I don’t know what I’m talking about anymore. Just forget all that. I need to go to bed._

_I miss you,_

_B._

“Well, then. I apologize for the disappointment.”

“Please, it is no disappointment at all. Quite the contrary. I am glad it was someone like you.”

“Someone ruthless and cold-hearted as a snake?”

“Yes. And someone just. Do you love her?”

“I do. Very much.”

“And she obviously feels the same. As two intelligent, cold-hearted people, I imagine we can both see where this conversation is going.”

“Oh?”

“You are a just person, Lord Vestra. Is that not why you’re here? To judge me? To punish me?”

“As I’ve said before, Madam, I am simply here to do my job. Any feelings I might or might not have on will depend entirely on her. I hope you can understand that.”

“I can. And I wish to say that you need not bother with feelings.” Before Hubert could say more, she stood up and began to walk across the room, running her fingers along the tapestries. “What a garish place, that house is,” she muttered quietly. “Terrible for anyone to live in, especially a young girl. I was always so sure she would wish to leave it as soon as possible. I know I did.”

Hubert watched in silence as she touched every wall, every corner, before finally making the whole way back around to the window. It finally dawned on him why he had been turned away at the main door; it had not been a play, a calculated move to prove something, but an admission of surrender. A white flag.

She turned to face him again. “You need not worry about me, Lord Vestra. I will not interfere with your work, or anything my daughter should not require me to. Hoping for more would be out of line.” The miserable expression from before was gone, replaced with cold composure. “In the meantime, it would be advisable for the two of you to stay here. It is a much more fitting home for a newlywed couple, do you not think so? Certainly much more appropriate.”

Hubert remained silent. It was not his place to offer opinions; he was a mediator, nothing more. Of all people, he knew best not to interfere in such matters. It would either resolve itself with time, or not at all, and it was not his will that he had to consider.

He stood up and bowed, muttering a quiet “as you wish” before climbing the stair back to his room. For now, the white flag had been accepted. 

Tomorrow would be a busy day. He would have to survey the entire territory, inspecting everything, taking notes on what did and did not work, and letting the people know exactly who he was and what he was there to do. The region was unsteady; in better shape than before the war, but still far from the ideal. He and Bernadetta would have a lot of work to do.

Right now, though, just for a few minutes, Hubert needed to think. Even indoors, the flower still rested on his lapel; it was becoming a habit, to run his fingers through the fabric whenever he was alone. Nervous as she was, Bernadetta probably did the same thing. She’d spent days working on one of her own in secret, skulking around the gardens in between meetings and travel plans so that Hubert could not see. “Works better than a portrait,” she said on the day of her departure, while they hugged away from prying eyes. It really did.

Work could wait. He had enough time to write one more letter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Shouldn’t we get up?”

“Technically.”

“But we’re not getting up.”

“No, we are not.”

“But don’t I have to do something? Like, make a report, or…something.”

“You already are, by talking to me.”

“…Oh. Right.”

Actually, Bernadetta was right. They really did need to get up.

“Ten more minutes.”

“Ten more minutes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (me: drops this two weeks later than planned because of college and flies into the sunset)


End file.
